


You Don't Get to One Friend Without Making a Couple Enemies

by TheNavelTreatment



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Social Network (2010)
Genre: 2004 was a good year, Apple Pie, College AU, Facebook, Gen, Harvard, I didn't even realize there was a The Social Network Fandom, Mark Zuckerberg - Freeform, Teenlock, The Social Network - Freeform, Unilock, University AU, With Cheese Obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1548533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNavelTreatment/pseuds/TheNavelTreatment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's trying to set up the perfect social network; too bad it's not really his area.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Get to One Friend Without Making a Couple Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Let's Write Sherlock" Challenge 12: Create a story in an everyday alternate universe using the following prompt: “It’s for an experiment.”

John walked across campus; it was so pretty in the late afternoon. Almost pretty enough to make him forget about the textbooks he was carrying. He looked wistfully at the ivy scaling up the brick walls around him, wishing that he wasn’t weighed down by so much paper and ink.

But still, pretty. And familiar. John thought one of the reasons that he wasn’t more homesick was because the Harvard campus reminded him so much of London. All cobblestone and old money. John didn’t belong here anymore than he belonged in the posh bits of London, but still it felt like home. And he deserved it. Hell, he _deserved_ to be here. Not every wannabe-doctor wormed his way into Harvard. John liked to think it was his surprisingly straightforward essay that had done the trick (Either I get in here or my dad’s making me join the Army - you choose), but he guessed he would never know. The intricacies of the American high education system were beyond him.

But they weren’t beyond Sherlock; nothing was beyond Sherlock. John assumed the higher-ups at the university thought living with a fellow Brit would help them both with homesickness. Make them both more comfortable. John laughed to himself; he doubted Sherlock ever worried whether anyone else was _comfortable_ or not. Sherlock fit in where John did not; he was as elegant and mysterious as the prestigious university could ever hope to be. He could rule the campus if he wanted to, but he _chose_ not to. John was more accepted than him, because John made an effort to get to know his fellow classmates; joking about American references that went over his head and charming them with his accent. Sherlock stayed aloof; looking down on his fellow students as though he was better than them. Which was partly correct; John had never met a person more naturally intelligent. He had no idea what Sherlock’s major was, but whatever he decided on, John was sure he’d excel at it. Sherlock had a mastery of the sciences, the classics, and languages; John had witnessed him use 3 in the course of one phone call. And coding! Computer code might as well have been Greek to John, but it flowed from Sherlock’s fingertips with ease. Past that, for all of Sherlock’s lack of social interaction, his ability to read people was uncanny. Within 2 minutes of meeting John, he knew all about his background and his home life and his ambitions. It was his inability to keep these deductions to himself that provided an additional barrier to making friends.

It had been rough going, at the beginning, but John felt that they had reached a sort of equilibrium. While Sherlock was just as condescending to John as he was to everyone else, the ire was a bit softer when it came to him. Sherlock kept John amused with his deductions about their dorm mates, and John made sure Sherlock ate on occasion. Sherlock sometimes gave him a look, when he thought John wasn’t looking, that was akin to wonder. Though John assumed it was the type of wonder that one bestowed on their pet when they did something especially interesting. John wasn’t naive enough to think that he was Sherlock’s friend, but he thought he could at least be considered an “acquaintance” or maybe even a “colleague.”

As John walked through the door to their dorm, a young man with curly hair quickly made his way out. He looked vaguely familiar, but John couldn’t place his name. The pace wasn’t surprising; that was Sherlock’s usual effect on people. As he entered the room, Sherlock called to him without even looking up from his computer screen, which was filled with endless “1s” and “0s” that John would never understand.

“When contemplating the commencement of a friendship, what traits do you consider when evaluating the other party?”

Not the strangest thing his roommate had ever greeted him with (that went to “How do you get pig blood out of cashmere?) but still not what a person expected after a marathon study session.

“I assume you’re talking to me?” John made his way to his desk (well, the portion of his desk that Sherlock still allowed him to use) and balanced the stack of books on the edge.

“Yes, obviously, who else would I be talked to?” Sherlock still deemed it unnecessary to turn around.

John sat back on his bed and put his legs up on the desk chair. “Well you said the skull could get rather chatty.”

John’s attempt at humor was apparently pathetic enough that Sherlock felt John needed to see the condescending eye roll and turned around to face him.

“Please John. Even he doesn’t deserve your comedic stylings. This is important; what do you look for when you evaluate a person’s potential for friendship?

“Evaluate a person’s potential?” John used air quotes just because he knew it would annoy Sherlock more. “That’s more appropriate for a business deal or inducting someone into your brother’s secret club. You’re just talking about looking for mates, right? Go down to the pub? Grab a snack in between classes?”

Sherlock paused in his typing (how he continued typing without looking at the keys John would never know) and considered the question. “Yes, but society seems to treat one’s compatriots as vital to one’s well being, so it naturally follows that careful consideration goes into choosing who they are. I’ve already covered the basics. A evaluation based on the 16 personality types based on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator--”

“Woah slow down there Jung. Most people don’t know their own type, much less those of their friends.” John flexed his ankles; club rugby here was more intense than he could have imagined.

Sherlock gave a sigh, as if the stupidity of the masses was why he didn’t deign to mix with them, “All right then John, what do you consider important?”

“I dunno. What music they like? Or movies? Or books? I would have to know what our common interests were. See what we have to talk about?”

“So, instead of relying on a time-tested science, you instead care about a person’s _pop culture interests_?” Sherlock’s tone of voice suggested that he thought John had finally lost it.

“Yeah so, look at it this way. You like classical music, right? All the stuff you can play on your violin? So you wouldn’t do so well with someone who listened exclusively to death metal.  You’d have nothing to talk about.”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose at “death metal” but seemed to consider it. “So lack of compatible music interests would preclude a potential friend....”

“Well, it depends if you have anything else in common, but it’d probably be a pretty big mark against them.”

“Hmmm,” Sherlock tapped his fingers against his bottom lip in one of his “thinking” expressions, “And of course, you’d want to know social status. To evaluate how an alliance with them would affect your future interests...”

“Alliance? Who refers to friendships as ‘alliances?’ Nah, never mind I think I know. God what was your childhood like? No Sherlock, when looking for a friend, people don’t tend to think about their future interests. They just want someone they can be comfortable with, connect with, hangout with. Go see films and drink to much and all that.”

Sherlock lifted an eyebrow, “Well ‘people’ seem to have a misguided notion of what’s in their best interest, but as I am shamefully out of my depth, I’ll take your word for it.” Finished, Sherlock turned back to his computer and began plugging in code again.

John considered his roommate for a moment, and then asked the question that had been bothering him since the strange exchange began, “What is this about Sherlock? Are you trying to make more friends here? Because I think if you’d just open up a bit---”

Sherlock whipped his head back and looked John straight in the eye, “I don’t need more friends John, I just need one.” There was that look again, which began to take on whole new layers of meaning. It took a minute to sink in - _Sherlock Holmes considers me a friend - his only friend!_ \- but John recovered enough to shoot him a small smile. Seemingly satisfied, Sherlock turned back to the screen in front of him.

John stared at him with new eyes before getting up and walking to look over Sherlock’s shoulder. “So what’s with the 20 questions then?”

Sherlock, lost in the flow of numbers, took a minute to answer, “It’s for an experiment. Or rather, a project. One Mark brought me to consult on. A social network to connect the students of Harvard via the internet. He’s calling it “Thefacebook” or something ridiculous like that.”

John scrunched his face in concentration, “Mark? Mark.....Oh Zuckerberg! Mark Zuckerberg! That’s who that was, running out of the room like he was on fire.”

“Oh, yes. He disagreed with my analysis of his coding skills, which are quite sorely lacking. His name might be on the project, but that doesn’t mean he gets to be sloppy with the set up.”

“So you’re just going to set up this revolutionary program and let Mark take all the credit for it? Doesn’t sound like you.”

Sherlock halted his typing and shot John a ghost of a smile. “Yes, well, if this is successful, the publicity surrounding it is going to be appalling. Completely unconducive to brain work. And the Winklevoss Twins are already raising a fuss over it, something about stealing their idea, as if their intellect is any sort of match for mine, but I don’t want to get involved. Best let Zuckerberg take care of all the messy parts. Coding is where I’m most comfortable, and coding is where I shall stay."

John waited a minute and grasped Sherlock’s shoulder, “Well, you can revolutionize the relationship process some more after dinner. One of the duties of a friend is to lookout for someone else’s well being and you don’t eat nearly enough. Let’s checkout the situation in the dining hall. I hope they have apple pie for dessert, with cheese like home....”

As John continued to wax poetic about various dessert options, Sherlock thought - _Really John, I wasn’t lying, you’re all I’ll ever need_. When John paused to shot him an expectant look, Sherlock returned one of disapproving affection, but consented to get up and follow his friend out the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I got this idea in my head and couldn't shake it.
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr! ([the-navel-treatment](http://the-navel-treatment.tumblr.com/))


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